Come What May
by LooseLipsSinkingShips
Summary: The events in the bunker following Lucy leaving Wyatt in the hallway and her activities later that night. Spoilers up to 2x06.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I know this will be at least one more chapter, but we'll see how far this arc takes me between now and Sunday. I apologize for any imperfections, I'm trying really hard to just let go and get it up otherwise I know I'll never get any of it posted before next week's episode.

* * *

COME WHAT MAY: Chapter1

"Tomorrow. Go be with Jessica."

He knew things between them had been different out of necessity, but it was the first time he'd truly realized how broken things were between the two of them. He watched her retreat down the hall and fought not to chase after her. To not beg her to talk to him, sit with him, confide in him, decompress with him after a shitty day of missions like they always had. He missed his best friend. He missed being the first person she reached for to enclose in those signature Lucy Preston hugs. He missed the way her eyes used to meet his when Rufus said something dumb as if they were both thinking the same thing. God, he missed her just meeting his eyes. How long had it been since she'd really looked him in the eye?

He waited for her to turn around to give him anything, but her footsteps never hesitated, nor did she feel the need to look his way before disappearing around the corner. He wasn't sure how long he stood there willing her to come back, but he finally wandered back down the hall to the room he shared with Jess.

Hand resting on the door, he hesitated, contemplating Agent Christopher's earlier command, _"Whatever is going on between you and Lucy you need to figure it out, Wyatt; and deal with it."_

He pushed away from the still closed door and made his way down to the makeshift training room, taking time to rid himself of only his gun and vest before he laid into the punching bag.

As he beat the bag, he relished every painful movement to his bruised ribs, contemplating whether whom he longed for the bag in front of him to be more: Emma, who kept putting guns and knives to Lucy's head; Flynn with his swarm worming his way from kidnapper to friend; or himself, the one who had abandoned her after promising otherwise, who continuously fought a losing battle of rage and jealousy every time she turned that smile on Flynn, who lay next to his wife every night missing her.

When his knuckles tore against the bag from the force of his blow, he knew whom his worst enemy was. So he punched on until both hands were bloody and pulpy.

When he was physically and emotionally spent, he found his way to the shower, where he washed away the sweat, blood, and tears, but was able to fully embrace the pain left behind from where the bullets had hit his Kevlar. How fitting that one had hit right over his heart and would surely leave behind a dark bruise.

" _Whatever is going on between you and Lucy you need to figure it out."_

Wyatt had put it off long enough. Stalled this decision too long.

He slipped through the quiet halls of the bunker, the eerie silence of the midnight hour making every click and clang of the old silo sound like gunshots.

He walked into the room, expecting to see her shape under the blankets, shivering against the perpetual cold of this drafty hellhole.

"It's tomorrow," he whispered expecting her to pop up over the back of the ancient sofa. When nothing stirred, his heart fell.

"Lucy, please, I know this situation is beyond awkward, but––"his voice cut off as he rounded the couch and realized he was talking to emptiness.

Instant panic set in, a residual fear from every other time she'd been snatched from him. That fear sent him racing through the bunker toward the room she and Jiya shared, hoping to find her there even after offering it to Rufus.

What he didn't expect was to hear her laugh sound from the first room he passed.

The room he knew belonged to Garcia Flynn.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I am working hard to get everything up before Sunday's episode shoots all of this to hell. So, I'm hoping to have chapter 3 finished and up sometime tomorrow. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this little Flynn and Lucy moment.

* * *

COME WHAT MAY: Chapter 2

Lucy woke head pounding and memory hazy. She shifted in her bed trying to piece together the events of the night before.

 _Shit, a bed._

She sat up with a start, blinking owlishly into the darkness of a room illuminated by the ever-present emergency lights of the bunker.

O God, she was still in Flynn's room—Garcia, he'd told her to call him Garcia she remembered. Memories were starting to filter back in, memories of vodka, commiseration, shared memories of lost loved ones.

She remembered showing up with the vodka, no words had been exchanged, no words had needed to be. He understood. Understood that being alone was hard, especially at night, especially when rhythmic thuds continued to filter down the halls. She didn't want to think about whose room it was coming from, just wanted to block it all out.

She'd just walked in and sat down on the one bed in the room, his bed, head resting against the dingy bunker wall glancing around at the meager possessions scattered around the room. Clothes weren't even unpacked, just in cardboard boxes like they were drawers.

But Garcia hadn't cared that she was there invading his space. He just sat down next to her and let the silence envelop them, let her take a swig from the vodka, took a drink himself, waiting for her to speak.

And she had; she remembered telling him about the last conversation she'd had with Amy before they left and he'd told her about checking the closets for monsters the night his family was murdered. They passed the night and the bottle telling stories like that. Some good memories, some hard, some tears, some laughter; but in silent agreement not to mention Wyatt or Jessica—until she couldn't remember much after a certain point. Certainly, she didn't remember crawling under the covers of Garcia's bed or falling asleep.

Throwing back the heavy blankets, she panicked when she felt the cold air hit her bare legs.

 _O God, she definitely didn't remember that._

Hands coming up to cover her face and fighting off the impending panic attack, she berated herself for whatever she'd allowed to happen last night. For whatever had left her in nothing but her underwear and flannel shirt in Garcia Flynn's bed.

"Relax," the mumbled words made her jump. She glanced around wildly trying to locate the source.

Lounging in a chair across the room, longs legs propped up on cardboard boxes, Garcia looked at her with mild amusement.

"Nothing happened, Lucy."

He chuckled when her response was to the pull the blanket back over her bare legs.

"Hmmm, Yes…that," he paused. "Let's just say we should never let you get drunk at bars; apparently, too much cheap booze makes you start taking your clothes off."

A mortified squeak was all she could manage as her hands once again flew up to cover her red cheeks.

"Relax," he repeated with an eye roll that was obvious even in the low light. "I stopped you before anything more than your uncomfortable jeans could come off."

Mortification over her strip tease, over what she may have said after, made her unable to look Flynn in the eyes. She was back to thinking of him as Flynn in her head, because thinking of him as Garcia now, just seemed too intimate.

He looked as though he could read her thoughts as he gave her that smug grin, "What, no thank you?"

That made her spine straighten and her hands drop from her face.

"Thank you. Now where are my damn pants?"

He motioned to the neatly folded jeans draped over the end of the bed.

"I'll let you get decent." He was already out of the chair and halfway to the door when he turned to look at her, eyes brimming with an emotion she couldn't name.

"Lucy," he took a fortifying breath, surprising her as it was so out of character for him to need a moment of courage. "Thank you—for giving me the chance to get to know you last night."

Lucy didn't have a chance to say anything before he slipped out of the room.

And besides how did she begin to respond to that.


	3. Chapter 3

COME WHAT MAY: Chapter 3

As Lucy snuck guiltily from the room, she knew she was being a coward in not staying to face Flynn after everything, but she couldn't—wouldn't open herself up to another friendship that could so easily be ripped away.

After all, the easy friendship and support were some of the things she missed most now that things were different with—Wyatt.

It was as if the mere thought of him had conjured him. However, it was obvious by the way his body slumped in the chair that it wasn't coincidence that he was sitting there now, eyes locked on the empty couch. The couch she was supposed to have been sleeping on.

She thought about turning, running away, but where would she run in this bunker? Besides she'd run long enough. So, when he lifted those blue eyes, bleak betrayal and hurt shining out of them, she didn't flinch, she held her ground.

"Why?" the guttural word scraped from his throat.

How did she answer that and keep any shred of dignity and control?

Her hesitation caused his tenuous grasp on calmness to snap, bringing him out of his seat and in front of her within seconds.

"Dammit Lucy, why? Why him? He tried to hurt you, kidnapped you, left you to die in 1754!"

"He's not the one that hurt me, Wyatt."

The meaning of her words registered for him like a physical blow, his head snapping back against the bite of her tone. All the fight leached from him in an instant.

"I know, and God, Lucy, I am so sorry."

His blue eyes captured hers and she had to lower her own against the pain she saw in them.

"Please stop apologizing, Wyatt. We knew from the beginning that Jessica could come back. You deserve it. You deserve reality rather than possibilities. You deserve to be happy."

She tried to keep her emotions from showing, tried to sound logical and detached but her voice broke on the last word.

Wyatt was there in an instant, hands lifting her face to look at him; the pads of his thumbs wiping away tears she didn't realize she was crying. His expressive eyes nearly undoing her with the tenderness and sorrow she saw reflected in them.

"I don't know how to be happy without you anymore." The words were so quietly breathed that they were both prayer and confession. Still weak to the way he made her heart skip, she couldn't pull away as he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers.

"I miss you, Luce. I miss us."

His words were the shock her system needed to pull away from his grasp and step back.

The steel went back into her spine and her voice as she spoke, "I can't be an _us_ with you anymore, Wyatt."

She held up a hand to hold him at bay when he started to speak and move toward her.

"You miss me because you miss having someone who hasn't missed six years of your life. You miss me as your _friend_ , and I understand, I do, because I miss it too. But, Wyatt, I also saw you work to get Jess back. Saw the lengths you would go to do that, who and what you would sacrifice and abandon to get her back, and –and now you have her, so now you have to give that a shot. That means I can't be you best friend anymore. She needs to be. And I need you to let me go, to let me get over you, because I can't stop lo–can't forget what we had if you keep doing this."

Speech over, heart shattered in pieces, Lucy turned her back on him and started walking toward the kitchen.

"I cannot lose you again."

His whispered words carried to her across the room, bringing with it the memories of the last time he'd said the same.

"It'll be okay." She assured, walking away from him this time.

But she wasn't sure who she was trying to convince, because she knew neither of them believed her. 

* * *

**A/N:** I know there was a lot of angst in this, don't hate me! For me Lyatt is endgame, but I think Lucy needs to have a serious conversation like this with Wyatt for them to really move forward. Here's hoping it happens in 2x07.


End file.
